Staying in today (because of the storm outside), I took to writing a letter to one of my host parents in CT.  It just struck me how different writing with a pen is from typing on a keyboard.  Of course, the act of writing (and on a pretty notecard, no less) would be more deliberate.  I noticed how I would carefully form my thoughts and words before putting them down on paper.  And seeing the trail of words, with their loops (I’ve got a loopy, script-like print) and twists seems to spur on even more lines.  I found myself reaching the end of the notecard without having said much, but having two well-formed paragraphs of musings.  I find it amazing that we have all of these half-formed thoughts floating in our heads, and that bleeding them out with ink (ew, that doesn’t make such a pretty scene), and reading them seems to help us acquaint ourselves further with–well, ourselves.  I could go on and on about what’s happened, with the everyday updates of commonplace (and sometimes not so) existence.  But I have to admit I haven’t been paying much attention to the little burning thoughts that dance around and cast shadows in my mind.  Penning words feels like a good release.   Now I look forward to writing more notes.  :-)



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